


Snow Angels

by orphan_account



Series: countdown to christmas [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Snow, Snow Angels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2712296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is terrible at making snow angels, Cas concludes, and steps in to show Dean how it's <i>really</i> done</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Angels

**Author's Note:**

> waahhh wrote this in a really short period of time, excuse the mistakes and crappiness

It’s understandable that Cas currently has a large stick up his ass, because his superior is a massive bald dick by the name of Zachariah. But it’s no excuse for him to oh so rudely drop in without warning on him while he’s having hot chocolate in the motel - shit, he could’ve been naked!

The chocolate sloshes onto his favourite sweater - the ugly one Sam got him last christmas of reindeers having threesome - and he yelps in the manliest way possible.

“Dude!” he groans, peeling away the dirtied section to give it a closer look. Irritation bubbles in him. “Give a guy some warning, would you?”

“Sorry,” Cas said curtly, glaring holes into the wooden floorboard. He doesn’t look apologetic though, judging by his intense eyebrow furrow and pout. “I was...tired of Zachariah’s complaints, and needed somewhere to go, quick.”

“Dude,” Dean says again, smirking gleefully, his annoyance over the stain temporarily forgotten. He couldn’t even be bored to veil the amusement in his voice as he continues. “Did you just flap your wings and ditch him in the middle of a speech?”

If it were possible, Cas looks even more guilty and vaguely horrified, as if that thought had never crossed his mind before. Dean throws back his head at that and laughs, a full throaty one and his free hand clasps onto Cas shoulder, the gesture slackening the stiff posture a little. “You’re so tense, Cas. C’mon, lemme show you how to have some real fun in the snow.”

By “real fun in the snow”, he means snowmen and snowball fights but for this special occasion, he’s going to do something a little different.

They make their way out to the front of the motel, beyond the parking lot where a thick strip of untouched snow lay. He flops into the snow with the same childlike glee he had when he was a little boy, four and full of ecstasy, and just like his mother taught him, he extends his arms perpendicular to his body and starts flapping his arms wildly, letting the snow gather along the sides.

This goes on for a solid ten seconds - Dean writhing his arms about like a cackling maniac and Cas standing over him with worry etched on his face - before Cas speaks up, softly and tentatively. “Dean? What- what are you doing?”

Dean ignores him and continues doing his glorious job until he’s satisfied and caked in snow, before he stands up and dusts his hands off on his pants in a futile attempt to get rid of the snow. Cas doesn’t budge, although his concerned gaze follows Dean as he joins Cas, stepping back to admire his incredible creation.

“Dean,” Cas says slowly, as if Dean has gone completely insane, one too many blows to the head, something like that. “What is that?”

“A snow angel,” Dean chirps merrily, and he starts trudging around the snow and examining bushes. “Haven’t you seen one before?”

“Angels don’t look like that,” Cas retorts, and from a bush Dean yanks out two blue flowers and holds it beside Cas’ head. Cas jolts back, mortified and maybe even terrified as Dean frowns, drops the flowers and continues rummaging. Has Dean lost his marbles? “Dean, I don’t understand what-”

“Aha!” Dean grins, effectively cutting Cas off and carries the two satisfactory flowers to where his “snow angel” was. He kneels down beside it and gingerly places the flowers where his head was at, draws down a line in the middle of the two flowers and a grossly exaggerated downward curve at the end of the line.

There’s a silence for a while as Cas tries to process this absurdity - he just flew from Heaven to escape his prick of a boss and came to Dean to blow off some steam, but instead he’s met with Dean who may quite possibly have drugs running through his veins this very moment, and presented with this terrible excuse of a “snow angel” in the name of “real fun in the snow”.

“I made you!” Dean proclaims loudly and proudly, sporting a shit-eating grin to match with his announcement. “See? The blue flowers are your eyes, the same shade even, then there’s your nose, and a giant frowny face because you’re no fun and you’re always grumpy.”

Dean chuckles again and looks at Cas expectantly, and Cas stares back at him with a solemn expression because what, he’s had a terrible day and Dean presents him with his ugly snow abomination and claims it’s him, and he expects Cas to laugh?

“Dean,” he says quietly but firmly after a while, and Dean’s cheery expression falters a little, uneasy of what follows. Cas steps forward and a little thrill runs down his spine when Dean’s features morph into one of worry and apprehension. He lets the silence extend and feels the nervousness flow off Dean in waves, intensifying by the second.

“That’s not how angels look like.”

“What?” Dean sputters, clearly not expecting that. This time, he’s the one frozen to the spot in confusion as Cas flops down on the snow. “Close your eyes,” he commands.

“What,” Dean says again, and it’s meant to come out as a question but comes off more like a statement instead. Without further warning, there’s a bright flash of light, like lightning, and Dean yelps (a manly yelp, thank you very much) and an arm flies up to shield his eyes. When he removes it Cas is back beside him, admiring _his_ own piece of work with mild amusement dancing in his blue irises.

On the ground beside his there is the dent in the snow where Cas was laying, and extending beyond the shoulders there’s a humongous empty patch of snow in the shape of wings.

“Dude…” Dean trails off, marveling at the sight. “ _Dude_.”

They make a couple more, courtesy of Cas, until the motel manager comes out and yells at them for flashing bright lights and disturbing other guests, and Dean decides to call it a day, trudging back to the motel room with Cas in tow.

As Dean heaps chocolate powder into two mugs and turns on the kettle, Cas watches out of the window as a group of kids run over to where _his_ snow angels are, and points and yells in awe. The smile that blooms on his face is purely unconscious and brimming with unadulterated joy.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [tumblr](theprofoundbond.co.vu), fyi ^-^
> 
> also check out my other fics <33
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated <333


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